


Truckin' Like the Sandwich Man

by TNB



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Food Service, Anal Sex, Domestic, Fluff and Smut, Hance for the heart, Humor, Literally the food truck fic no one asked for, M/M, Sheith for the soul, and gets wrecked in the process, lance learns a lesson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 16:58:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15077648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TNB/pseuds/TNB
Summary: Lance and Hunk are moderately successful food truck owners, minding their own and dishing out the good lunch until a new rival truck shows up and starts stealing their business!Who are these newcomers and why are they on Lance and Hunk’s terf?





	Truckin' Like the Sandwich Man

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this right before season 6 to cope with my 'we might lose Shiro' fears. Glad I was wrong!

It’s Wednesday morning and Lance absolutely cannot find his keys. This is a travesty because he and Hunk currently should be doing prep work for the lunch rush, along with cleaning and sterilizing. And the worst part is that Lance knows it’s his fault because he’s the one that drove them home yesterday.

To be fair, he was a bit distracted last night when he got home; the bed was calling his name in a soft whisper of warm blankets, memory foam mattress topper, and a big, cuddly boyfriend.

Owning and operating a food truck was a blessing and a curse. He was blessed each day to work with his boyfriend, Hunk, and eat his delicious food. But he was cursed to stand on his feet or drive around looking for a solid spot to set up shop. This made mobility stagnant and stiff, making him cranky and tired when he got home. Which made him forget where he put the damned keys.

Turns out they were under the refrigerator.

Lance is more baffled than angry, but Hunk plays it off nicely, claiming they probably got dropped and kicked under there by accident. It’s all fine and good, but now he and hunk are 30 minutes behind schedule which could cost them some of the lunch rush crowd if they don’t pick up the slack.

A couple years ago Hunk and Lance decided that being best friends wasn’t enough and they wanted more. So, they went into business as co-owners of Don’t Po’ Breakin’ My Heart, a food truck that specializes in its namesake, the po’ boy sandwich.

A few weeks later they decided they wanted a lot more and started messing around – with sandwiches. Now they serve not only their signature po’ boy, but also a variety of lobster rolls, paninis, BLTs, and the like.

A couple months later and they decided to move in together to make taking care of the business easier on them both. Then one night, before he knew it, Lance was in Hunk’s bed with spread thighs and two fingers in his ass and, well, here they are. It’s a pretty standard love story, all things considered.

It’s a tight trip, but they manage to make it to their normal weekday haunt only 15 minutes late thanks to Lance’s lead foot. He goes to whip their whip into the normal spot when he notices it’s not vacant. This happens sometimes, it’s a popular area surrounded by businesses and a college, so it’s not exactly uncommon for cars to park where they technically shouldn’t.

What _is_ uncommon is that another food truck is parked in _their_ spot.

-:¦:-

When they get home, Lance is beside himself.

“How dare some interloper come along and just… interlope like that!” he says, swinging his arms into the air and wildly gesturing to a food truck that isn’t in the vicinity.

“Aw, come on. It wasn’t that bad,” Hunk placates, rubbing Lance’s shoulder and trying to ease his tension. It’s a gross understatement, it was that bad.

Not only did the owners of the food truck refuse to move, but they had the proper licensing and paperwork, meaning they could technically stay where they were with no issue. It’s not like Hunk and Lance could lay claim to a parking spot, it’s just where they normally landed.

And the two young men who owned the truck were complete unknowns; Lance has a record book of every food truck and person in their city with tabs and a map, the whole shebang. Hunk would be hurt to tell him he could just use an app for that, but he’d hate to put all of Lance’s hard work to naught.

Clearly the tenderfeet were new to the entirety of the food truck biz because Hunk and Lance know all the ins and outs and who’s who of their small corner of the world. Pulling a food truck faux pas was just a greenhorn mistake.

What made it bad was that Lance hopped out of their truck and immediately started butting heads with the shorter of the owners, causing a dramatic scene and sparing any kind resolve to their tension. Hunk ended up having to pull Lance inside and drive them a little down the way. It was a fine spot, but not carefully coordinated like the other one was; perfectly between the college campus and two other corporate buildings.

“They probably would have understood and moved down if you’d been a little nicer and hadn’t insulted him like that.”

“I wouldn’t have had to insult him if he didn’t have a shitty parking job and looked like he was about to grow a rattail!” Lance barks.

And Lance has a point, the young man that confronted them had acted no better than Lance; perhaps even more defensive if Hunk was going to rank them, which he was. Lance got a 6 on the defensive scale and the new guy got an 8, but Lance won on the full-blown-volume scale unquestionably at a solid 8.7 with a rude hand gesture to cap it all off nicely. Sorry, not nicely.

Hunk felt a pang of regret, it was always pleasant having new people in the group that weren’t out to get you and could actually become reliable friends. Hopefully tomorrow would be a better, fresher start.

-:¦:-

It was just turning midday when Lance pulled the truck up to what was once their normal spot.

The newcomers were there again, in their sleek, freshly painted black and red food truck. On the side its vinyl decal shined in the light and read The Grounded Pilot, and underneath ‘a mobile café’. This time Lance pulled up directly across the street from them, so he could glare daggers as he served the food Hunk made. It was petty and a total power move, and the other couple seemed completely nonplussed.

Now that they were within eyeshot Hunk finally got a good look at them. The new food truck rivals were, to put it bluntly, extremely attractive. Without a doubt. The shorter one Lance had bickered with truly did have a mullet, albeit a stylish one. He wore a plain black t-shirt and dark wash jeans, while the taller man wore in vogue track bottoms and a sweatshirt while sporting a scar across the bridge of his nose. He also had a very high-tech looking prosthetic arm that Hunk really wished he could get a closer look a-

“Hunk!” Lance shouts from across the room, “stop ogling the competition and get on the sandwich making, my man!”

Hunk feels his face heat at being caught and rubs his hand behind his head sheepishly. Lance sighs exasperatedly and turned back to the current customer, chatting them up charmingly and putting on a bravado while Hunk does his part.

Lance is flirty and imprudent, but Hunk is so in love he’s past the point of caring; he’ll even overlook when Lance points and asks for the bottle of Worcester sauce and calls is ‘Warchester’ sauce while mixing in ingredients.

“Worcester,” Hunk says.

“What?”

“It’s Worcester.”

“Alright!” Lance says, throwing down the spatula, “If my stirring is that bad then you do it!” and Hunk just wants to kiss the stupid out of him. But that’s not realistic, so he decides to pick his battles. And besides, Lance makes up for it in being extremely personable with customers, especially of the female variety.

Hunk doesn’t get jealous, because his self-esteem isn’t low enough to warrant it and he knows that Lance would never do anything to compromise the immediate access he has between Hunk’s thighs. But sometimes it does get tiring to watch your best friend, business partner, and somewhat newly minted boyfriend make schmuck eyes at some blonde nineteen-year-old marketing major, even if it’s just to retain customers. He usually goes a little rougher on Lance those nights.

Hunk supposed he was due for one of those nights.

When the evening rolls around and the last stragglers return to their dorms or apartments or desks they sleep under, Lance and Hunk drive home serenely. Until Lance decides to complain about the news guys again.

“I don’t get it, why are they always there before us? They’re doing it on purpose.”

“They sell coffee, so they probably show up in the morning and then leave in the afternoon.”

“It’s dumb. I say we stake out tomorrow morning until lunch, so we can keep out spot,” Lance grumbles.

Hunk is not enticed by the idea of spending his precious little downtime sitting in the truck just to show up some nobodies when he could be in bed and in Lance.

“Nah, no thanks, not really feeling it,” Hunk says.

“What!? How can you say that!? They’re the new comp-o-tition!” Lance shouts, clapping his hands at each syllable of ‘competition.’

“Yeah, but, I like sleeping in. And what’s the point of giving up normal day jobs when I don’t even get to do the thing you convinced me was the best part of the job?”

“Well, that was then. This is now. They could put us out of business! We could be forced to go back to office jobs and work on computers! Imagine that, you’d be fighting some other pencil pusher for the nice desk chair. Is that what you want?”

Hunk knows he is not going to win this argument even if he wis right, which was how most of their arguments went, so he changed to defense and tried a new, sneakier angle.

“Hey, so that girl you were talking to earlier was cute. She a new customer?”

“Who, Amy? Yeah, she’s a History major and takes yoga classes. I think she’s gonna come back tomorrow,” Lance says while his chest puffs slightly.

“Yeah, she must really like you…” Hunk trails off. He sneaks a glance at Lance while trying not to look smug.

“Wha- no, it’s not like that, buddy. I’m just flirting to keep our customers coming, you know the drill.”

“Oh, I know the drill,” Hunk says. He tries to hold back a laugh while his hand trails up Lance’s leg to his thigh, “I also know what’s going to _get_ drilled.”

Lance grips the steering wheel a little tighter, and pushes the gas pedal a little harder.

When they get back to the house Lance is in a rush to get inside, throwing the door open, running a quick check on the appliances, shutting everything down, and locking up. Hunk takes his time, looking for the house key and unlocking the doors at his own pace.

When they finally get inside Lance pushes him by the shoulders towards their room, clearly excited to have a fierier Hunk at his disposal for the night. Without any preamble, Lance chucks his shoes into their closet and strips himself bear. The shoes make a dull thud as they hit the back wall, and Hunk winces as he can practically feel the scuff marks.

Hunk is extremely used to seeing Lance naked, since he pretty much only sleeps that way. But it’s always nice when his lithe body is paired with bedroom eyes telling Hunk to get with the program. So, he starts to – slowly – take his own shirt and pants off.

Lance is already on the bed, ass in the air as he wiggles it back and forth to make Hunk move faster, giving his rear a couple of good natured smacks for emphasis. Hunk takes his time and folds his clothes neatly. Then he starts to fold Lance’s clothes neatly. Lance finally snaps his head back.

“What are you doing? They’re dirty anyway!” he says, getting off the bed and tossing the dirty clothes into the laundry basket.

“There! Now take me to bed!”

Hunk laughs and picks him up bridal style, gives him a soft, loving kiss, and then chucks him onto the bed like Lance did his clothes a moment earlier.

“You’re so impatient, let me enjoy the buildup.”

“You already built me up. In the car! With your big hands and sexy fake jealousy!”

Hunk should have known he’d be found out eventually. In actuality, Lance was probably goading him at this point, but all was fair he supposes.

“Alright,” Hunk says, patting his thighs as he sits on the edge of the bed, “lean over me, I’ll get you ready.”

No amount of begging, squirming, or dirty talk could make Hunk speed up the prep process. Getting inside Lance faster was never worth the trouble of taking care of him the next day when he was sore and used, it gave him a reason to milk it for all it was worth. And besides, tonight was about Hunk.

Hunk has two of his large fingers scissoring inside Lance making squelching noises as Lance moans and rubs himself on Hunk’s thigh when Hunk decides he’s ready for _le plat principal_. He gently removes them from Lance and scoots his boyfriend onto the middle of the bed while gently flipping him onto his back. Lance reaches his arms up invitingly, and Hunk finds himself drawn into a hug with Lance who then takes a deep breath into his shoulder.

“Ahhh, why do you always smell and feel so goood,” Lance says.

Hunk gives a small laugh and starts peppering kisses around his face while Lance gets his arms around Hunk and tries to get him to slide in.

“Because you make me shower every day,” Hunk jokes, even though it isn’t really a joke. Lance has ridiculous hygiene requirements and sometimes Hunk just doesn’t feel like washing his hair.

“Mmhmm, because I know what I’m doing. Oh!”

Hunk takes Lance’s distraction and slips in, enjoying his surprise and delight as Lance wraps his arms around Hunk’ neck and starts moaning wantonly. Hunk keeps a nice, even pace and enjoys the ride.

Lance is always overeager and relies on Hunk to stop him from coming too soon. But sometimes – this time – Hunk decides to let Lance tip over the edge and be a little greedy as ‘punishment’. It’s only fair when he puts up with so much.

Lance is gripping his arms and raking his nails down his back, and he keeps at his steady pace pulling Lance along. He can feel his thin legs trying for purchase around Hunk’s waist, but the sweat is making it slick, so they keep slipping off and Lance makes a noise of frustration. It means he can’t push for more and can only take what Hunk gives. It’s incredibly hot.

Finally, the moment Hunk was waiting for, Lance is about to come early. His breath increases as does his grip on Hunk’s arms, so Hunk keeps pace and starts giving him sloppy kisses and nibbles down his neck to edge him along. Lance makes a valiant effort of not holding back whatsoever and comes completely untouched on Hunk’s belly.

Hunk works him through it and stops when Lance taps out, kissing him gently before sliding his tongue in. Lance’s breathing is even more ragged after, and he whines in Hunk’s ear.

“Why did you let me come so early? Your stamina is better than mine.”

“You’re right,” Hunk whispers back, “it is. Turn over.”

“What?”

But Hunk just nudges him until he’s on all fours and props him up on a pillow.

“If you really need to tap out, use the safe word. But I want you to do your best,” Hunk says, giving Lance’s thigh a soft kiss before spreading Lance wide and lowering his mouth on him.

Lance’s reaction is mixed; he jumps at the feeling of Hunk’s tongue on him but relaxes into it soon after, and the noises he makes are ones on the border of overstimulation. It will probably take him a while to get hard again, but Hunk knows it’s worth it.

A solid 15 minutes later and Hunk’s jaw is sore, so he’s moved on to fingers, but Lance is finally sporting a chub which will work for Hunk just fine. He spreads lube over himself again and positions himself on top of lance, arms on either side of his head and pressing the top half of his body into the sheets. He slides himself along his back, teasing between his cheeks.

“Oh god, I don’t know if I can go again so soon,” Lance says while trying to look back, but Hunk just shushes him and starts to push in. He slips in much faster this time, almost with a pop, and sets a brutal pace immediately.

Lance cries out and starts clawing the mattress. Hunk can imagine how overstimulated he must be, but he also knows the delicious burn mixed with the drag against his prostate will keep him on edge for a while, which means Hunk will have him for a while.

Lance must know what he’s thinking because he whimpers into his pillow again.

It’s a long night, and Hunk – and Lance – go to bed very content.

-:¦:-

Hunks feels nudging at his side before opening his eyes to a pale darkness. It’s the crack of dawn and Lance is awake.

“Wha? Babe, what time is it?”

“It’s 6AM, we gotta go quickly if we’re going to beat Panic! At the Café to our spot, and also stake them out. Preferably with real stakes because mullet might be an actual vampire.”

“They work during the day, they’re not vampires.”

“I still stand by the stake statement,” Lance says, while pushing at Hunk’s side to roll him out of the bed.

“You mean stake-ment,” Hunk jokes, but groans again as Lance starts pushing harder, “ugh, come on man I don’t wanna get up this early. This is my ‘me’ time.”

But Lance is incredibly insistent, even with his mild limp, so Hunk concedes a loss and rolls out of bed. When they finally make it to the street, lo and behold, The Grounded Pilot is already there.

“You’ve gotta me kidding me!” Lance shouts, throwing up his arms in disbelief.

“Well, I did try to tell you, cafés open for business pretty early…”

“Nope, no way, we’re still riding this one out,” Lance says. He parks across the street again and cracks the window to watch the baristas and prep the truck at the same time.

Hunk heaves a sigh and the morning drags into the afternoon at a snail’s pace.

“Alright, I’m opening up shop now,” Hunk calls back to Lance, while sliding the serving window open fully. Across the road, Shiro gives Keith a small peck on the corner of his mouth which, to Hunk, was very sweet. Unfortunately, Lance saw it.

“That’s a health code violation!” he yells, more across the way than to Hunk. If Shiro and Keith heard they ignored it in favor of serving a new customer.

“You kiss me while we’re working sometimes,” Hunk says.

“That’s different because I’m not a CUSTOMER STEALING FAKE BARISTA,” Lance says, punctuating each word with the butter knife as he slathers sauce on the po’ boy bun.

“They’re not fake just because their café is a truck.”

Reeling Lance in was no small task, and Hunk has to be careful with his word choice so that he doesn’t upset him or give him something else to complain about.

“Bet his hair is fake,” Lance mumbles, “bet it’s hair extensions.” Hunk pats his head sympathetically.

-:¦:-

“We should try talking to them again, clear the air,” Shiro states.

Keith grunts in reply while cleaning out some cannisters.

“I know the taller boy came off a bit strong, but you were pretty standoffish too.”

Keith grunts again.

“I feel like we’re maybe cutting into some food truck manners that we just don’t know about, and I don’t want to ruin our chances of making friends. I think I’ll reach out to the local community, there’s a webpage and everything.”

Keith doesn’t dignify this at all, so Shiro treats it as a victory.

“He’s limping today,” Shiro chuckles. He could see Lance come around the truck to shoo off some pigeons eating discarded fries, a small hitch to his step.

“So?” Keith says.

“So, I wonder if the big guy went a little hard on him last night.”

Keith blushes at this, and Shiro laughs again. It wasn’t super hard to catch Keith off guard and make him blush, but it never stopped making Shiro’s stomach do flips when it worked. He grins a little wider and runs his hand along the small of Keith’s back.

“I bet I could outdo him.”

This mkese Keith blush even harder, the red spreading to his neck and ears while pushing Shiro away to go clean up the grinder.

Shiro decides to push his luck a little bit.

“I bet _you_ could outdo him,” he whispers into Keith’s ear as he rounds on him at the counter, his chest pressing into Keith’s back. Keith’s grip on the bag of espresso beans hardens as Shiro slips off to help another customer.

He wonders if he’d get what he was gunning for tonight. Normally Shiro took the lead in their intimate moments, Keith shied off from being too pushy with him and genuinely enjoyed being wrapped in Shiro’s arms – even the metal one.

But, every once in a while, Shiro craved Keith’s raw energy in bed. He would edge him to the cliff until Keith fell, and subsequently fell on Shiro with the ferocity of a starved man in front of a well spread feast.

Getting Keith to that point wasn’t easy, though. He had to be slowly moved lest he figure out Shiro’s intentions and then – god forbid – treat Shiro gently like some romance novel harlot.

After the crash and subsequent honorary discharge from the military, Shiro floundered. He had no purpose, no arm, and too much free time. Keith would come home worried sick to Shiro not having moved from bed or eaten anything all day.

It was so bad that Keith ended up going reserves for his last two years to take care of Shiro and help him through the healing process. Shiro felt like a burden, sick to his stomach that he cost Keith his career. But Keith insisted that they were a team, and they would figure it out together. And they did.

Now, three years and many hours of therapy later, Shiro had a wonderful prosthetic arm that could function 80% as well as a normal one, and also do things like not bleed when he hit it with a knife. So, not a bad deal.

Oh, and he owns a restaurant now with his fiancée. Yeah, not a bad deal at all.

But Keith was still overly careful with him, and while Shiro loved him for that thoughtfulness he also wanted to be fucked stupid sometimes.

An hour later and the skies opened to give Shiro his chance.

It starts pouring rain, so Shiro runs outside without an umbrella to collect the cream and sugar canisters off their small table. This leaves him vulnerable to water, Keith’s biggest weakness.

When Shiro makes it back in the truck he’s practically soaked through, with his jeans sticking uncomfortably to his legs. But Keith is staring. Hard.

He looks down and realizes his dark nipples are cutting diamonds through the white shirt, along with every crevice of his stomach. It’s nice to be appreciated by your fiancée, even after they’ve seen you naked a hundred times.

Which makes it funnier when the elbow Keith is leaning on while drooling at Shiro slips on a puddle of coffee, making him smack his face into the counter.

“Oh no! Babe, are you alright?” Shiro asks as he runs over to check on Keith. His forehead was red from the impact, but otherwise he was unscathed. Which makes Shiro feel less guilty when he starts heaving laughs as Keith turns up his nose and goes to change the pots in shame.

Shiro gives in and walks over to plant a kiss on Keith’s forehead, right where it was still cherry red. Keith, in turn, takes the opportunity to run his hands down Shiro’s wet shirt and rub his thumbs over the pert nipples.

“I think business is probably done for the day…” Keith trails off.

Shiro can take a hint.

After a very thorough and satisfying roll in the hay, Shiro finds himself crawling out of bed to answer a text message that was lighting up from his phone on the dresser. He could feel Keith leak out of him and run down his thighs as he starts walking. It’s not unpleasant, but Shiro can feel Keith’s eyes on him the whole walk over which gives him a small thrill of satisfaction up his spine.

Shiro bends lower than necessary to pick up his phone and keeps his elbows on the dresser while he types, giving Keith his fill. Keith’s behavior after nights like these borderlines on possessive, and Shiro can’t help but enjoy the rare occasion. He spreads his stance a little more as he types, and it must do the trick because he can hear Keith slink out of bed. The footsteps get closer until he feels hands run down his hips and gently spread him.

Shiro gives a small chuckle and goes back to his phone, it was a message from someone in the local community group. They were inviting Keith and Shiro to an upcoming event, and as he goes to tell Keith about the exciting news Shiro instead gives a yelp of surprise.

Keith was running his tongue up Shiro’s thigh, trailing the leak that ran down it. Shiro groans and feels his thighs shake as Keith reaches his perineum and starts lapping, so he pushes his phone to the side and decides to deal with it the next day. It ends up being the right call, in his humble opinion.

-:¦:-

It was one of Lance’s favorite nights of the month, Blackjack night.

Blackjack night was a congregation of the local food truck owners who, putting aside all differences in cuisine and business rivalry, would try to best each other in a friendly card game to win real, tangible, fake monopoly money. It was a tradition going back as far as April of last year and Lance hadn’t missed a single game.

Lance and Hunk pull up to Pidge’s house and walk up the front porch, ringing the doorbell. Pidge answers with her telltale grin, pushing up her glasses.

“Well well well, wasn’t sure you’d show up,” she says with a glint in her eye.

Pidge is another local food truck owner, her modus operandi being a green pasta truck called American Spaghetti with the words written in the telltale bubble lettering from the movie _American Graffiti_. It was cute, until you got a solid look inside.

Pidge is a borderline tech wizard on par with Hunk, and she applies her skills to her pasta. There are instruments of every shape, weight, and variable placed throughout her truck for making her signature dish. She gave Lance a bowl once that looked like some bizarre alien food but tasted like ravioli. It didn’t even have cheese on it.

“Why wouldn’t we have shown up? It’s blackjack night,” Lance asks, poking his head in.

Lance did see why; there at the kitchen table, between Pidge’s brother Matt and the crazy local fisherman Coran, were the two café truck owners.

“You invited _them!?”_

“ _They_ have names,” Pidge says pointedly, “and they are Shiro and Keith.” She points each person out respectively, while Hunk pushes forward into the kitchen and grabs Shiro’s hand.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Hunk. Sorry we got off on the wrong foot,” Hunk says, while also reaching for Keith’s hand. But before he can get to it Lance interjects, cutting off Hunk’s contact with his arms.

“No way, I’m not playing a betting game with the competition!”

“We’re all competition Lance, we all have food trucks,” Pidge deadpans.

“Yeah, well, you don’t cheat another truck out of their spot!” he says, pointing a finger accusatorily.

“Alright, alright, settle down,” Coran says, “we’re all here to play a simple card game and nothing more. Shiro and Keith wanted to get to know the local community, and I couldn’t think of a better way. They’re here as my guests, and I’d appreciate your inclusion just as much as the others!”

The tightrope air of the room tangibly deflates, and Lance slinks down into a chair next to Keith with a grimace.

“That’s the spirit! Now, pick a straw. There’s a marker color on each to match you up with your partner since it’s a larger group tonight,” Coran says cheerfully. Lance dejectedly picks a straw along with the others, and notices he has an orange mark.

“Orange then, Lance? Wonderful! That means you and Keith will be a team!” Coran says with unwavering enthusiasm. Lance freezes while the knowledge passes over him like ice water.

“What!?”

“Oh, hey, you can trade with me and team up with Pidge,” Hunk says.

“Not to worry, I’m sure they’ll be tight as a school of rummynose by the end of it!” Coran says, and that was the end of it.

Except that was not the end of it and Lance is doing his best to make both Keith and Hunk as miserable as possible. On the first turn he accuses Keith of trying to cheat the game in Matt’s favor, who was dealing, on top of denying every single play Keith tries to make after.

And while they weren’t necessarily doing bad, the entire air of the room is sour with Lance’s piss-poor attitude and Keith’s stoic monotony of not engaging. Finally, after an hour of playing, everyone decides to call it quits.

Shiro slings his arm around Keith’s shoulder and waves goodbye as they make their leave. Lance eyes them the entire way out.

“What the hell was that!?” Pidge yells after Shiro’s pickup truck had pulled out of the driveway.

“What was what?”

“That! You were being a complete ass!”

Lance sticks up his nose and turns away, “Yeah, well, maybe Keith shouldn’t have made it so hard to play!”

“Agh! You know what, you are banned from blackjack night until you get this stupid issue of yours resolved. Apologize and get over it!” says Pidge, and she pushes them out onto the porch and slams the door.

“Fine! We don’t need dumb blackjack night anyway, do we Hunk?”

“Uhh, that ban doesn’t apply to me, does it?” Hunk calls into the house.

“Hunk!”

“What? It’s just, you’re being pretty unreasonable dude. Shiro and Keith seem like alright guys, and I’d like to get to know them, but it’s hard when you’re acting pretty bratty.”

“I’m not acting bratty!” Lance cries, stomping his foot on the ground and pouting. Hunk laughs and sighs. “Why don’t we get a good night’s sleep, and then tomorrow during work we’ll make them lunch as an apology. And you need to talk out your issues with Keith, whatever those issues are…”

Lance grimaces but doesn’t fight it and Hunk pinches his butt playfully as they climb into the car.

-:¦:-

“Do I have to do this?” Lance asks, deadpan.

“Mmhmm,” Hunk replies, giving Lance a chaste kiss to the side of his forehead.

Lance is currently holding a paper bag that contains two signature po’ boy sandwiches and two shares of their fries and special sauce. Hunk went all out and made them extra special too, with spices from their personal home collection. It was a peace offering of high caliber, in Hunk’s professional opinion, and the only thing left was to deliver it with a solid apology.

The only issue was the apology itself. Hunk had asked Lance to think it over and practice it during the morning, but Lance was more of a wing-it guy, which worried Hunk this time. Sometimes his emotions ran high and he said things without necessarily thinking. It’s what usually got him in trouble.

Lance sighs in defeat while they both hang the ‘be back in 5’ sign and walk over to the café truck directly across from them. Shiro is handing a businessman that had just bought lunch from them a coffee, and waves when he spots Hunk and Lance.

“Hi there, to what do I owe the honor?” he says, but it’s friendly and in jest.

“Shiro, hey, Lance and I thought we’d bring you and Keith lunch as an apology for last night,” Hunk says, and nudges Lance with his elbow.

“Ow, hey! I mean, yeah. Sorry I was acting like a brat. Jerk! Sorry I was acting like a jerk.”

Hunk eyes him from the side, and Lance sighs again.

“Sorry for being a poor sport and ruining the game on purpose, Keith,” he calls back to where Keith is prepping coffee pots. “I was just mad that you guys took the spot we always sell our food in, but it’s technically not ours and you technically have every right to park there. I was just taking my frustration out on you, and that was wrong of me.”

Hunk beams, and so does Shiro. Keith still has his back to Lance and hasn’t moved, though.

“Keith,” Shiro says, “anything you want to say back to Lance?”

A beat, and then, while everyone is holding their breath, “yeah, is there mayo on that sandwich?”

Lance loses it. “What!? I give a heartfelt apology and that’s all you have to say!?”

But Keith is turning around now, and he’s laughing. “Just kidding. I’m sorry I got defensive, Shiro and I built this business from scratch and I didn’t want someone thinking they could just walk all over us. We can move the truck, it’s whatever.”

Hunk and Shiro give each other small, knowing smiles, but before Lance can comment on it Keith is walking up to take the lunch bags.

“Thanks, these look good and I’ve been wanting to try one,” Keith says. “Do you want a coffee for the road? Er, for crossing the road?”

Hunk and Lance happily agree and walk back with a lighter weight on their shoulders.

“There, don’t you feel better now?” Hunk asks.

“Yeah, but don’t expect me to start being all high and mighty. I’m still a messy bitch that lives for drama,” Lance says, and Hunk laughs and pushes him gently.

The rest of the day goes by quickly, and they drive home in comfortable silence.

When they make it home, and make it into bed, things fall into their normal course of action. So, naturally, Hunk finds himself between Lance’s thighs getting his workout of the day in.

Hunk is pistoning his hips and getting delicious moans out of his boyfriend when he decides to ruin the mood. Not on purpose, but more out of necessity.

“Hey, cuttlefish?”

“Yeah?” Lance moans weakly.

“Did you turn the propane off?”

“…”

“…”

“Fuck!”

Lance pushes at Hunk’s shoulders until he slides out.

“Could you have waited to remind me of that when you weren’t balls deep in my Lussy?” he says, tugging sweatpants and some sneakers on.

“Excuse me, your _what?_ ” Hunk asks incredulously.

“You heard me. If you get to interrupt great sex to remind me to check that the propane is off, then I get to call it my Lussy. Unironically,” Lance says, and he storms off outside to check the truck’s propane unit.

Hunk half groans, half laughs as he wipes his palm down his face. He hates to be that person, but they’re a relatively new business and propane can get expensive, they need to save money wherever possible.

When Lance returns a few minutes later he looks sour-faced, which means the propane had not been turned off. Hunk knows the mood for the evening is now gone, and instead decides to give Lance a quick blowjob and then look over some of the business numbers. He lays down in bed and pulls his laptop onto his stomach, while Lance settles himself into Hunk’s side. Hunk pulls one arm around Lance’s shoulders which lets him run his hands through Lance’s hair while he works.  

As they poured over their receipts and did the dirty administrative work that was a cruel necessity Hunk could see the frustration in Lance’s eyes as the numbers clicked. The truth was, business wasn’t down since the café moved into their territory. Business was up, actually. Just slightly, but enough that it was noticeable to even Lance.

“I don’t get it, how are we doing just as well as before? They’re stealing business!”

“Listen dude, I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think their café is actually bringing in some business for us,” Hunk says while rubbing his boyfriend’s head soothingly.

“Nope, nuh uh I don’t buy it. There’s gotta be another reason. Maybe a new office opened up nearby, or the college admitted more students this semester. I’m not gonna fight them over parking anymore, but they’re taking customers! I see our customers over with them afterwards!”

Something clicked for Hunk. They did see their customers over there, but only _after_ eating at Don’t Po’ Breakin’ My Heart. They were eating lunch and then indulging in an afternoon coffee break, a la fika style. Keith and Shiro weren’t stealing customers, they were probably keeping some sticking around to eat at Don’t Po’ Breakin’ My Heart so they could have coffee after. It’s why sales have been up. It’s a symbiotic relationship!

But Lance was Lance and he wouldn’t grasp this without some serious struggle, so Hunk needed to think of a way Lance would come to understand on his own, without being told by Hunk.

When Lance was finally asleep that evening, nestled into the crook of Hunk’s armpit, Hunk whipped out his phone and started texting his idea to Shiro. With Shiro fully on board, they both agreed on the plans set out for that Saturday.

-:¦:-

Saturday morning came with a quiet, gentle breeze against the warm summer air. Lance was stretching on the front porch while Hunk double checked they had all the ingredients needed for the big day.

“It’s just a charity walk, dude, I don’t think we’re gonna be needing a thousand extra sandwiches,” Lance says, but even he looks a little giddy.

That morning, hundreds of people would be lining up to walk for the Altean charity organization. It happened every year and was a big business day for all food trucks in, and out, of the vicinity. Which meant competition was high, and Lance was not expecting a huge rush.

But Hunk had an ace up his sleeve, as Lance was about to find out.

“I’m trying to be proactive, just in case. Don’t bother, I’ll drive today,” Hunk says, as Lance was about to climb into the driver’s seat. At Hunk’s words, he instead slides over and hands the keys to Hunk. “Sure thing, I’m not complaining.”

The drive is quieter than normal as they are leaving at a much earlier time to ensure a place to park. The rules of food truck etiquette don’t roll over to special events, and it tends to be a free-for-all hot mess. When they pull up, The Grounded Pilot is already set out and selling the early birds their coffees.

“You know, I can’t really be surprised anymore,” Lance mumbles, but Hunk just waves at them. Then, miraculously, Shiro moves some cones that were blocking off a section of the road and Hunk slides their truck right in.

“What.”

“I contacted Shiro the other day, since I knew they always hit up the early crowd and we usually show up too late for a good spot,” Hunk explains. “He and Keith agreed to save a spot for us.” Lance looks skeptical but doesn’t push it while they prep the truck as they normally do that morning.

When the afternoon comes around and the charity walkers and runners start trickling in, Hunk and Lance are bombarded with orders in a way that had not yet happened before. BLTs and po’ boys are flying out of the window like hot cakes and Hunk is actually struggling to keep up with the demand.

Then, after picking up their sandwich and side, Hunk (and Lance) would subsequently watch the customers trickle over to the café where they would purchase an iced coffee or tea. Like clockwork.

“No way…”

“Oh yeah,” Hunk says at the look on Lance’s face, “they’ve been helping us get customers just from the convenience to a cold drink.”

“Unbelievable.”

“It’s kind of genius. The people are too lazy to walk somewhere else for food if they can just get it all right here.”

After the last charity walkers had bought their food and the majority were beginning to leave, Lance and Hunk look over their earnings.

“We did really well,” Lance says.

“Mmhmm.”

Lance sighs, then laces his fingers in Hunk’s and tugs his arm until he moves and walks them over to the café truck. Shiro greets them with his usual kind smile, and Hunk returns it.

“Alright, you can have it.”

Shiro blinks in confusion, “have… what?”

“The spot, our spot! You guys can have it back, we’re doing just fine without it.” Hunk nudges his arm, and Lance concedes. “I mean, we’re doing fine, but we’d do better if you guys were parked next to us again. It’s been bringing in some extra business.”

Shiro laughs, and Keith sidles up next to him while looking down at the duo from their truck.

“What’s this? You missed us?” Keith says, his tone light and playful.

“You wish!”

“Yeah, it was getting a little lonely after we got used to seeing you everyday,” Hunk says.

  Lance shakes his head but he’s smiling, “no way, it was more like Stockholm syndrome.”

Keith and Shiro lock eyes for a healthy moment before they turn back to look down at Hunk and Lance from the window. “Alright,” Keith says, “we’ll move back, but our trucks have to be parked next to each other, not across. You guys have been helping keep our business going too, you know. Sales tend to slow down in the afternoon unless there’s food.”

“It’s a deal!” Lance shouts.

-:¦:-

“Ahhhh home at last!” Lance says, stretching his arms above his head while simultaneously dropping back-first onto their bed. “The hotel we stayed at was pretty ritzy, but I just love the way our bed feels. It’s so much more comfortable.”

“I don’t know, that hotel had the best catering I’ve ever tried. And the ocean was right outside from the deck. And we got to go snorkeling which was amazing,” Hunk says, “also, take off your wet clothes before getting into bed.”

They had just returned from Shiro and Keith’s destination wedding, something Shiro had requested. Keith seemed more of the go-to-the-courthouse-and-sign-the-paperwork sort of person, but Shiro pushed for a more romantic option, even if it was lowkey.

So, Hunk and Lance were invited and got to make a solid tropical vacation out of it, free booze included. Oh, and their friends got married and it was extremely touching. Hunk cried, and so did Lance even if he denies it.

Hunk opens his arms and Lance finally pushes himself up and out of the bed, slotting instead into Hunk’s chest. Hunk shuffles the wet shirt off of him, and eventually they end up in their night clothes.

Lance has his face buried in Hunk’s chest, which gives Hunk the perfect opportunity to lick his palm and slap it on Lance’s head under the guise of petting him gently. He tries his best to smooth out the bits that stick up from the poor weather, and wonders if Lance actually knows what he’s up to. But he just presses his face in further and takes a deep breath, and Hunk wonders how many stages of oh-jeez-I-think-I-love-him he can go through before it sinks in officially.

They haven’t been together long, but they’ve been together forever.

Hunk rubs his hands up and down Lance’s back and over his butt and thighs, less to tempt and more in thought. Lance finally looks up, face a deeper shade from the heat of Hunk’s body. He presses his lips together and wrinkles his brows without breaking eye contact.

“Will you marry me?”

Hunk blanches.

“What?”

Lance pushes himself from Hunk’s arms and runs into the bathroom. “Don’t move!”

Hunk can hear things being strewn about- and yeah, there goes the pack of toilet paper and a bottle of shampoo. A minute later and Lance emerges with a small black velvet box and Hunk can feel his legs go jelly at the knees. The box has a blue and white stain of what seems to be toothpaste on it.

Lance pushes his bangs back in faux bravado, and points one hand at Hunk in a finger gun while the other holds the small box.

“I figured since I’m such a catch you’d want to lock this down,” Lance jokes, but Hunk is barely paying attention because now the box is open and there in it sits a beautiful yellow-gold wedding band. And now Hunk can’t see anything because his eyeballs are swimming in tears.

Lance breaks the schtick, “Hey, big guy, you alright? It’s okay if you’re not ready, I don’t wanna push y-”

But he’s cut off by Hunk crushing him in a hug and saying ‘yes’ a thousand times. When they finally part, Lance has tears in his eyes and he’ll admit it this this time. They start running down his cheeks as he helps put the band on Hunk’s finger.

Hunk rubs his thumbs over Lance’s cheeks, but it only smears the wetness without really doing anything. They kiss anyway, and Hunk feels dizzy afterward.

“Hey big guy, you know what sounds great right now?” Lance asks.

“A sandwich?” Hunk replies.

“You read my mind.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading this to the end! I love comments they keep me going!
> 
> Yell with me about season 6 on twitter TNBwrites


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